


#SkunkBearBlonde

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Femslashgang Secret Santa 2018, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Renaissance Faires, Twitter, this is aka the one where jean goes viral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottlethe girl sitting in front of me is drawing our professor as a fucking skunk bear thing and its like? really good tbh dont get me wrong but this is literally day one of class are you okay do you need my notes





	#SkunkBearBlonde

**Author's Note:**

> hoo boy it has been a Hot Minute since ive written x-men fic gkdjfj but i wanted to give it another go! 
> 
> this is for @souldagger on tumblr as part of femslashgang's 2018 femslash secret santa exchange, so i hope you enjoy!!! this was a blast to write :)
> 
> also, sidenote: my emma is based off of mutantapologist's black emma frost art, and i'm NINETY-NINE percent sure my jean is based off of art i've seen? but idk? i might have dreamt her who knows kgjdjfjd

**Now - December**

"Hold on, let me get this straight," Ororo said, holding her hand up in front of her, white nail polish glimmering against her cool, dark skin. "You have a huge crush on this girl, so you _blocked her_ on all social media so you could talk about her behind her back?"

Jean's hands crumpled in front of her face, warm brown skin shifting across her knuckles. " _Yes_ ," she finally heaved.

"Jean, that's stupid as hell."

"I know!"

"And now it's gone viral," Ororo continued. "And there's honestly no way she hasn't seen it."

"She retweeted it - the repost, at least, 'cause she's still blocked on my Twitter."

"Jean Elaine," she murmured under her breath. "You're gonna be the honest to all gods death of me."

"I know, I'm sorry, 'ro."

\---

**Four Months Ago - End of August**

It was honestly a wonder that they even managed to cross paths at all, given their respective tracks (or lack thereof, in the beginning of Jean's college career,) but gen ed credits were one hell of a drug and all that. 

Jean busted into her 100 level math class with exactly twenty-four seconds to spare. While she found that to be a miraculous feat, her professor - Howlett, she thought - didn't even look up from his paper. Deciding to be thankful for the quiet entrance, she bounded up the steps and scooted into the first seat that wasn't too crowded with people.

She slipped her spiral notebook out, grabbing two pencils so she wouldn't have to go back into her bag, and set to filling in the class information because she'd promised Sara she'd try harder this year.

And by filling in the information, she'd fulfilled that promise, which meant that while Prof. Howlett started walking them through the syllabus, she could cast her eyes around the room.

There were honestly only three people of interest to Jean, and in ascending order from least to most, they were this:

Down in the front corner sat a boy with red-tinted sunglasses decidedly on despite them being indoors and it making him look like a _huge_ douchebag. His hair fit the part too. It looked like it had rolled out of a separate bed than him, like it'd had a wild night and he'd stayed home and done crossword puzzles in his matching pinstripe jammies. He was rolling a pencil between his fingers poorly, barely even moving it in all honesty, but before she looked away, he smacked himself in the face with it, so that had been worth it.

Centered smack dab in the middle of the rows was a girl with short black hair and a dope as hell yellow leather jacket. She had rings jammed on all of her fingers, some pressed down to the base and some hanging out around the knuckles - what struck Jean as the most odd, though, was the fact that they were mixtures of gold and silver and copper. A laudable statement that Jean bookmarked for later - she was definitely the person to talk to to find out who to bum notes off of, no one that sure of themselves wasn't interconnected with the whole class.

But most important, really, was the girl sitting directly in front of and a little to the right of Jean. No one else even mattered once Jean laid eyes on her.

Her hair was the first thing she noticed - quick little bleached waves down her back that rested just above the edge of her white tank top. She was sketching something in the spiral notebook in front of her, but from where she was sitting, Jean couldn't tell what. 

Almost as if she heard the thought, the girl reached up and brushed her hair back behind her ear, sending it shaking in cascades. Once she was done being mesmerized by _that_ motion, she realized a) she could now see over the girl's toned shoulder, and b) the girl was drawing Prof. Howlett's face.

The drawing was in an almost grave amount of detail, his face slowly coming to life just below the top of her paper. As he went on about something that honestly didn't seem to be shaped as words about math should, Jean watched in awe and slight terror with a pinch of disgust, as the girl gave him a, ah, new body. Also horrifically in depth.

She didn't think a thing of it, really, just pulled her phone out and silently flicked over to her Twitter. She pattered out a quick tweet, sent it off to her humble amount of followers, and rested her phone beside her notebook, trying, for once, to keep focus. 

It mostly worked, except for every now and then when he eyes would drift down to the notebook in front of her to check in on the progress.

By the end of the lecture, it was done up with shading and all those other artsy words that Jean didn't really know because she mostly kept the company of weirdos who weren't traditionally artistically inclined, and Ororo, who was not a weirdo, and had her shit together too much to make concerning drawings in the middle of class.

Really, if it wasn't so fucking weird, Jean would think it was kind of beautiful.

As Prof. Howlett ended class, Jean set to scooping her things up in her left hand, leaving her right open to check the notification blinking at the top of her screen.

As she moved out of her row to jog down the stairs, eyes glued to the incoming texts from Kurt about something or other that was happening back home, she bumped into someone, nearly dropping everything in her hands.

"Shit, sorry, sorry," she muttered, pulling her things closer to her chest and stealing a quick glance up.

She found herself looking at crystalline eyes framed by bleached waves and arched black brows of concern.

"No, it's fine- you okay?"

Jean had, admittedly, forgotten how to speak in the presence of pretty girls before. It was no secret, really. Hell, the day she met Ororo she hadn't spoken for a full twelve hours - though, that was years ago, and a stage in her life that she was well passed.

Never had she, however, blurted out the dumbest fucking thing she could think of and scurried off.

First time for everything, she supposed.

Her ears were burning as she scampered down the rest of the stairs, flying past their TA who was stood close to the door, and right on down the hallway, not even sparing a glance back at 

She added to her quick thread as she booked it across campus to her next lecture, praying that Julia wouldn't show Sara the tweets, but still posting them anyway. 

\-----

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

the girl sitting in front of me is drawing our professor as a fucking skunk bear thing and its like? really good tbh dont get me wrong but this is literally day one of class are you okay do you need my notes

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

fuck fuck fuck

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

"skunk bear. inspired choice." ~ my dumbass to the Incredibly Gorgeous blonde artíste who sits in front of me before i fucking Bolted w/o letting her reply

\---

**Ororo Munroe | @calmbeforethestorm**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

i left you by yourself for LITERALLY two hours

\---

**its kurt | @dabbadeedabbada**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

If we don't hear more about the #SkunkBearBlonde what's the point?

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

_replying to @dabbadeedabbada_

i literally fucking hate you

\-----

Jean had thought that would be the end of it, honest. Had _planned_ for that to be the end of it. Jean had dealt with plenty of crushes in her time, and this was no different - she would be fine.

But then Skunk Bear Blonde had to go an fuck it all up.

Jean walked into Prof. Howlett's class surprisingly early, given that it had been a whole week, and usually by then she was slinking in late with a half eaten McBagel, or whatever they were called, and no shame.

But this class was different for some unknowable reason, and even if she did know the reason, which she didn't, she wasn't going to confront it because her attendance of a math class was the best it had ever been.

As she crossed the threshold, she saw her. Her hair was swept up in a cute ponytail, and she had on a pale blue sundress with little diamonds on it, and it caught Jean so off guard that if it hadn't been for the line of muttering nineteen year olds behind her, she would've stopped dead in her tracks.

But there _was_ the line which meant she got deposited slightly to the left of the doorway, close enough to overhear the words being exchanged between SBB, Prof., and the TA who Jean still wasn't clear on if she was Prof's daughter or like, weird niece? He looked like he could be a weird uncle.

"What do you want, Ms. Frost?" Prof. asked, looking up from the paper in his hand.

SBB - Frost, Jean tried to remember for later…whatever a less sinister word than investigation was - smiled pleasantly and handed a plain sheet of paper over to him.

He took it, holding it between thick fingers as he gazed over it. Laura - his TA - making sure to squint at it over his shoulder.

"Oh my fucking god, Emma," Laura barked out first, tears instantly pricking at her eyes, her hand coming to try to shield the laughter from the room. "This is _priceless_!" she continued in a near screech, her face crumpling in mirth as she doubled over the desk, planting her palms flat on the tabletop as she wheezed her way through her outburst.

And that was when it hit Jean exactly what SBB - Emma Frost, if all accounts were correct - had given him. 

She'd given him the drawing. An inked over version on a thick piece of paper, but the same drawing nonetheless.

Holy shit.

"It's…," he finally began, scratching at one of his thick sideburns as he searched for adequate words. "It's original."

"Sure is; I even signed it, so when I make it big time, you just pop that bad boy on EBay, okay?"

He stumbled quickly through his next words, "All right. Thank you, Ms. Frost," making Jean realize that she'd never really seen him with any other emotion than Teaching on his face. Befuddlement was an okay look for him.

"No problem, Prof." She shot him cocky finger guns after that, clicking shots out of the side of her mouth before she turned on her ballet flat, sending her hair bouncing over her shoulder in an enticing cascade. Her eyes caught on Jean's, and she did a combination wink/small smile that nearly made her stop functioning. 

"Ms. Grey," Prof. Howlett called, snapping his fingers. "Can I help you with something or are you just going to stand there all day while I teach class?"

"Uh- sorry, Professor," she muttered out before scampering off toward her regular seat, just behind Emma.

 _Emma_ , god even her name was cute- nope, not doing that. Jean faced down her notebook with warm cheeks, trying to scribble something in the margins to mark the passing of another day, but her eyes kept drifting down to Emma's own notebook in the hopes a new drawing would pop up.

It didn't. It was just little squiggles that ultimately looked like 80s bowling alley carpet, which meant that Jean was forced to resort to something she wasn't proud of, really.

But with nothing to focus on - Prof's voice something she wasn't even worried about - it was a given, really. Especially with the new information she'd acquired.

She kept her phone out of sight, mostly out of respect, and pulled up Twitter. She figured that there couldn't be more than one Emma Frost at their school, and with a little sleuthing, she found out she was right.

She was Emma Frost aka ◇ emma ◇ aka @gofrostyourself, a handle Jean appreciated on multiple levels.

She scrolled back through a few days of tweets, mostly retweets of beautiful dresses and aesthetic poetry that had a lot of themes about like, loneliness and beating hearts. There was also a lot of Dickinson, so she was feeling pretty good on that front.

It wasn't until she got to one of those long chains about these two girls who met online getting engaged and then married, which Emma simply retweeted with the caption "okay but whens this gonna happen to me" and a string of sparkly heart/crying emojis, that she finally checked that column 

Which. Okay. In addition to having met plenty or pretty girls before, Jean had met plenty of pretty girls who also liked girls before. No biggie! It didn't change-

"Hey."

Jean's head snapped up from where she was voraciously reading the Twitter feed of the very girl talking to her.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you, but do you have an eraser I could borrow?" she asked in a low, sheepish whisper. "I think I left mine on my desk this morning."

God, the fact that this girl was even still talking to her was a miracle.

 _Don't fuck this up, Jeanie,_ she thought to herself.

"Yeah, sure, of course," she replied, her fingers fumbling over her screen as she tried not to drop her phone while she reached for her bag at her feet. Still, she managed to splay her thumb across the top of the screen as she tugged a loose eraser from the pocket of her bag, and hit something in the middle with the inside of her thumb knuckle as she passed it over to the girl.

"Thank you so much," she said, beaming at Jean before she turned back around to continue her scribbling.

Jean stared at the back of her head for a long minute before she finally looked back down at her phone, where a dialogue box had appeared.

**Block @gofrostyourself?**

Jean stared down horrified, scrambling to clear it. If Jean blocked her, she'd never find her, and if she never found her, she'd never see- wait.

Wait.

Jean's fingers immediately stopped before the declined the option, letting her mind mull it over. If she blocked her, then Emma would never see any of her tweets. And if Emma never saw any of her tweets, she'd never see the embarrassing exchange that Jean, for some reason, couldn't bring herself to delete.

**Block @gofrostyourself?**

**Yes.**

And before she could lose her boldness - now padded by the comfort that the girl would never _see_ any of it, Jean opened a new tweet.

\-----

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

#skunkbearblonde rlly gave our prof the drawing, now inked, like. in the middle of class. to his face. wht a fucking power move holy fuck

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

also you didnt hear this from me but she has the most RADIANT smile and unrelated i need a new eraser

-

**Ororo Munroe | @calmbeforethestorm**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

"unrelated"

-

Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle

_replying to @calmbeforethestorm_

im literally gonna come take all the erasers out of your mechanical pencils Ro

\-----

Unfortunately, Jean didn't really get to talk to Emma much more after that. She supposed that she could initiate conversation, if she really wanted to, and it wasn't that she didn't want to, nor that she didn't _not_ want to- it was all confusing, murky territory that she didn't know how to navigate. So, she didn't.

People liked to think that Jean had her shit together, and considering it was a good rep to have, she let it stick. Sometimes, she even believed it herself. But it was in situations like these when she was reminded that that was 100% not the case, not even in the slightest sense.

Reality checks were good for her, she decided. They kept her in line, kept her on track.

Still, it was a lot to ask from one or seven internal reality checks to put an end to her admittedly out of left field new tweeting habits. Which, of course, meant that they - the reality checks, that is - would become physical manifestations.

That was how she got Scott, afterall.

\---

**Three and a half months ago - mid-September**

When Jean walked into class that day, she recognized two anomalies. 

Number one, Emma wasn't there. That, in and of itself, was disconcerting, considering that even when she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else - which was nine times out of ten - Emma was always in class. 

Number two was that, though technically unclaimed ground, Jean's normal seat was taken by the asshat in the sunglasses. Figures.

Jean had really taken to observing her few more interesting classmates in her spare time - i.e., any time Prof. Howlett spoke - but this guy. He somehow looked both clean cut and like a frat boy, like he could get trashed by looking at one drink, but could hold his liquor. He looked like an altar boy that would break your heart. 

But mostly, he looked like a newborn kitten stumbling through the first few weeks of life. It was amusing, to say the very least.

He had a penchant for smacking himself in the face with just about anything he could get his hands on - once, she'd watched him poke himself in the eye with the ink end of a pen _while he had his glasses on_. She still wasn't sure how he'd done it. 

He was also great at getting called on and not knowing the answer, yet she was pretty sure he was in the top percentile of the class. 

If Jean could appreciate one thing about him, it was his duality. Luckily, she didn't have to appreciate shit about him, especially not him sitting in her unassigned-assigned seat.

"You're in my spot," she informed him bluntly, her ponytail brushing against her neck as she turned to look down at the wrapper she was stuffing in the bag slung at her side. 

"Oh! Yeah- good, I thought I'd gotten the row right, but I wasn't sure. I mean, not that I pay that much attention - I do, it's just, like, not in a weird way? You're a very interesting person to look at; okay, nope, that registered as I said it and even I know that's creepy, sorry. Starting over: I'm Scott Summ-"

"And I'm not interested, so," she wiggled her fingers in his direction. "Could you try for boy next row over instead of boy next door? You're seriously in my seat."

"What? Oh, god, I'm sorry, no I'm not hitting on you? I just wanted to make sure you had someone to do the peer review thing with- also, Jubie kinda fucked me over when she paired up with Patsy, but it's whatever." Despite the glasses still on his face, he looked impossibly earnest. Like that stray puppy she'd taken in despite Sara's many, many protests when they were kids. Sighing, Jean finally relented - if only in honor of that dog, god rest his sweet, overactive soul.

"All right, yeah. Scott, you said?"

"Yep. Summers. And you're Jean, right?"

Jean had done an incredible job at flying under Prof. Howlett's radar, and nearly three weeks into class she had yet to be called on. Narrowing her eyes at him, she asked, "I am. How do you know that?"

"Oh! I follow you on Twitter. I saw you were a student here and then I recognized you from this so I figured why not. Has anyone ever told you how funny you are?"

She looked down at him with a small, tired frown - it wasn't even that early of a class, but her circadian rhythm said otherwise - until she finally let her face smooth out. "Yeah, they have."

He smiled slightly, quirking only the corner of his mouth before he scooted over a seat, hauling his bag with him.

"If you're gonna sit here, though, I have to ask so I can win a bet with myself," she started as she dropped into her spot, finally. "What's with the sunglasses?"

He grinned, a blind Crest-white smile, and replied, "Oh, dude, I'm like 98% hungover everytime I cross that threshold. Also, the glasses piss Logan off."

She grinned as she asked, "Logan?"

"Sorry, _Professor Howlett_." He pulled a small face. "I've known him since I was a kid," he explained. "So it's like - nah, that's just old man Logan."

"He'd probably skewer mid-lecture if he heard you say that."

"Oh, for sure, Jean. Hundred percent."

She laughed a little at his dry tone, and decided that he could stay, but only for the day.

\-----

As it turned out, Scott wasn't really the kind of person who could do something he enjoyed once and be done of it. Ororo would, on multiple occasions as the knowledgeable and trustworthy psych major, call it an addictive personality. Jean would just say his common sense and impulse control had shaken loose somewhere during his rowdy childhood. Either worked.

But that meant, of course, after the first time, he ended up attaching himself to Jean's hip in and out of class, but mostly in. Not that it was fully his fault, she was a fucking delight to be around, after all.

In that time they found that they connected on more than a few things - weird childhood, overbearing but well-meaning older sibling, no idea what they were going to do with their lives. It was an odd bond, with an odd beginning, but soon enough they were, y'know, basically friends.

Considering that Jean hadn't really made any friends since she moved, had simply brought Ororo with her, it was nice to have someone new to bug. 

It wasn't however, nice to have someone new to bug her back. Especially if that person was unfiltered-because-we're-best-friends-now Scott Summers.

Jean had tried to curb the whole "best" thing, she'd know him for two weeks at best, but he'd decided it, and so it was. That was the other thing about Scott, once he put his mind to something, there really wasn't any going back. It was as good as an unwritten law of the universe.

Which meant after having caught her staring at Emma no less than four times in one class and many more in another, Jean was in deep shit.

\-----

**Two and a half months ago - mid-October**

Emma was drawing a bird. Or at least, Jean thought it was a bird. Considering the rest of the context of the drawing, it must have been a bird.

The rest of the drawing was this: a stylized, chibi Emma with her hair in a thick bun on top of her head, and a cute jumpsuit with spaghetti straps whose wide legs covered her feet, e.g., exactly what Emma looked like that day (aside from the not feet - she was wearing strappy sandals that were clear as day, so Jean wasn't really sure what that was about.) In her small arms were the beginnings of the bird, held close to her chest in a way that was almost cradling. 

The more Jean watched, though, the more she was thinking that it wasn't a bird. Or well, not the avian kind.

The messy blob started to take shape with feathered wings and dangling little feet, but from there it started to get hazy. What should be the head was outlined as a proportional, yet oddly blocky shape with a simple line drawn up from the middle of it.

Jean had seen Emma draw enough pieces to know that that was simply the rough draft, and would be filled in soon with detailing, she just had to wait. As the rest began to take shape, though, Jean was glad she hadn't had to wait long.

Fused to the bird body in place of a head was a plain human hand, the middle finger stuck up proudly. She filled in small details - fingernails, the wrinkles on each knuckle, even little freckles across the top of it - before she huffed a small laugh to herself and flicked her pencil around between long, slender fingers. She brushed the basic expression she'd put on herself away with the eraser, and instead quickly filled in a beaming grin, accompanied by scrunched up eyes.

It was all oddly adorable.

Pushing her hand up to the top of her page, Emma quickly scratched out a title for it - "I Don't Give a Flying Fuck About Math" - and underlined the later half of it with a kind of loopy scrawl. 

It was in the exact moment that Emma finally pulled her pencil from the paper that Jean thought she was going to pass out. 

She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath as tightly as she had been, which meant when the laugh caught in her throat started to move upward, pressing hard against the muscles there and she let it go, everything rushed to her head. She inhaled sharply - a quick sound that she prayed no one heard, but judging by Scott's whippet of a head swivel toward her, it was unlikely. Given that Emma tried to discretely peak back over her shoulder - _way to go, Jean!_ \- she figured that everyone in class had to have known, then.

She thought she saw the barest hint of a smile on Emma's mouth, though figured it was one of pity, and didn't dwell on it any longer than she had to. Not that she had much time to do so, considering Scott yanked her up the second Prof. Howlett dismissed them, and pedaled her out of the room fast enough she nearly forgot her bag.

"Oh, my god it's Emma," he expelled, practically out of breath after having tugged her across the quad.

"Scott- Jesus, what are you doing?"

"It's Emma! Your tweets, they're about Emma." And there was the reality check practically smacking her in the face.

Immediately, her cheeks pinked, though she knew that her one small mercy in what was to be an ensuing situation of epic awkward proportions was that the brown of her skin was dark enough that _he_ wouldn't notice that.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest, tugging the fabric of her leather jacket over her shoulders.

"Jean, I totally know Emma, we're like, ren faire acquaintances- why didn't you just tell me?"

She blinked back at him, the words taking seconds to click into place in her brain. "Scott," she said, her voice surprisingly quiet. "Scott, you can't say a word to her- I need you to really hear me on this one. No."

"But _Jean_."

"I'll tell Alex about how you ate the last piece of his sixteenth birthday cake. Granny Summers' secret recipe, right?" It was amazing, really. She hadn't even known Scott a whole month and she already had blackmail material on him.

Scott squinted up at her slightly. "You don't even know my brother."

"Actually, we're connected on LinkedIn. And we're Facebook friends. Also, I'm on his finsta."

"Wait, what? He won't even let me follow that, he always denies my request."

She schooled her expression into something calm and cool - serious is as serious does, she figured. "Maybe it's because you're a backstabbing cake eater, Scott. But now's your chance to repent."

His shoulders dipped. "I'm not even Catholic."

"You're not?" Jean replied, face screwing up in confusion. "So the repression thing is just you?"

"Says the girl who has been chronicling her crush on Twitter, but won't let me try to bridge a little gap."

Snapping back to the discussion at hand: "Scott, c'mon - just promise me, please?" 

It was rare that Jean begged for anything. The last time she'd begged she'd been six and- wait no, the last time she begged was like a week ago and it was at Ororo to see if she'd drive her to get dinner at ten thirty at night. Amendment: it was rare that Jean begged for anything, unless it was Ororo's driving skills.

"But you two would totally get along, and probably hit it off, and definitely make a great couple. Let me do this one thing for you, Jean. Twenty bucks says I'm right."

She paused, actually, horrifically, for one second considering it before she remembered herself. "No! No. I'm handling it."

"You're one accidental retweet away from viral fame and copious amounts of shame. The fact that I have to be the one to tell you that says like, a lot, Jean."

"Maybe I am and maybe it does. Just, please?"

Scott sighed, looking around from behind those same red sunglasses. They reflected a world in warm shades, blades of emerald grass turned maroon, and trees turned burnt shades of umber. It was a beautiful day, honest. But as nice as the wind was whipping through Jean's hair, she was itching to get back to her dorm to collapse on her bed and try to not think about any of this. "Fine. But in however many months it takes, don't say I didn't tell you we could've wrapped this all up sooner."

\-----

Amazing as it was, life went on. The days of October, and soon November, whittled themselves away, Jean and Scott's duo becoming a sometimes three-piece when Jubilee - the girl that Jean had seen in the yellow leather jacket that first day of class - decided to join them. Despite being a year older, she and Scott went way back, though she was also good friends with another girl in their class, Patsy, so she would split her time. Secretly, Jean thought it was just that if you wanted to get anything done, you couldn't sit beside Scott. Luckily, Jean had no such wish.

She was actually doing pretty good in class - well enough, at least, that she hadn'tbeen pulled aside to talk about it. She had this knack for not being able to do shit anywhere else, but testing pretty well, so she wasn't too terribly worried. And if things got too concerning, well, she was great under pressure. Mostly.

She was great under academic pressure, and like, familial pressure, and all the other pressures that weren't romantic. Romantic pressure cracked her like she was a pecan and the world was one giant nutcracker.

Case and point being that she'd officially been fawning over Emma for far longer than she'd ever fawned over any girl without engaging, and yet despite being relatively good at interacting with girls after any initial trip-ups, she hadn't been able to bring herself to this time.

The thing was that Emma was so…so Emma. That was it. She was so Emma and Jean was so Jean and she wasn't sure how or if she could make the two click and it was unbearable. She'd reached out non-verbally in a few ways - smiles, a note, a second shared eraser - but she always got in her own way and so they never went anywhere.

Scott was still trying to play Cupid - not that Jean would ever trust him with an arrow, metaphysical or actually physical alike - but she couldn't concede, feeling as if she had to be the one to do it now, if it were to be done.

Pride was a terrible thing sometimes, especially that of a Grey girl. She and Jules had once forgone speaking to one another for a week when they were 13 over pride. Sara had quit many jobs over pride. 

But now, it was simply that Jean had too much pride to admit to her friends or herself that her crush on one Emma Frost ran deeper than that of any she'd ever had.

Which, of course, meant trouble.

\-----

**A Couple Weeks Ago - December**

Jean didn't mind the cold, really, but she wasn't a die-hard fan like Kurt, or even a simple appreciator, like Ororo. She tolerated the cold.

Though, it did mean the switch to hot coffee from iced, which meant brisk trips to the possibly illegal (she'd never seen their permit, after all) stand on the far side of campus. She wasn't a fan of whatever it was they served in high capacity at Starbucks in the winter, so the stand it was.

As it was, the seasonal switch to the stand was one that was looked forward to by the entire populace of coffee drinkers on campus. Oh, the stories one could tell about the stand.

There was the proposal (denied,) the proposal (accepted,) the guy that built that just-shy of NSFW snowman, and of course, the one time that one of the SFX make-up students disguised herself as the owner of the stand when he called out sick in the middle of his busiest season and ran the stand for the day (if you got a cup of coffee from the orange-haired girl you were effectively a god among men.)

But for Jean, it was the place where, after ordering her syrupy cup of afternoon sustenance during one of her few breaks from test prep, she took a scroll through memory lane (e.g., most of her SBB tweets from the past couple months, since they'd popped back up in her notifs.)

\-----

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

saw #skunkbearblonde literally climb over the rows in our lecture hall while calmly explaining she was first aid certified when a kid in front of her cut his hand on a (screw?) and when i tell you it was the most attractive thing ive ever seen in my life,,

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

#skunkbearblonde came into class today with the cutest reading glasses i've ever seen and i physically felt my heart skip two beats @ god why me

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

noticed tht #skunkbearblonde was kinda down and out today so i stuck a (signed, we call that personal growth!) sticky note to her bag with a little note on it and booked it

-

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

but when she saw it she smiled So Big tht i immediately made @olelasereyelarry listen to me cry about being gay for half an hr so like. ig my week peaked today

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

okay so i think tht #skunkbearblonde has caught onto the fact tht i peak at her drawings bc i stg shes drawing some of this shit just to @ me so thoughts on retaliation?

-

**scotty boy | @olelasereyelarry**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

let me play matchmaker

-

**it's kurt | @dabbadeedabbada**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

see if she wants to get coffee

-

**~ jubes ~ | @womanintheyellowjacket**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

hear me out: draw things for HER

-

**Ororo Munroe | @calmbeforethestorm**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

call it literally anything but "retaliation"

-

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

friendship ended with everyone else @womanintheyellowjacket is my best friend now

-

**~ jubes ~ | @womanintheyellowjacket**

_replying to @jeanieinabottle_

oh fuck yeah i finally won smthn

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

almost choked on my smuggled-into-class mcmuffin when #skunkbearblonde called me by name today and now i feel like these tweets are underground correspondences tht are gonna be discovered at any second

\---

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

apparently some of you guys think i just nonstop watch #skunkbearblonde like a creep like?? no?? i have a life but it just so happens i never learned to keep a physical diary to talk about my crushes so here we are, oversharing on the internet like any self-respecting child of the 2000s

\-----

She paused after that one, taking the proffered cup from the guy in front of her and hastily retreating to a nearby bench. She kicked one leg over the other, shaking its foot gently as she swiped away brewing notifications at the top of her screen.

There were only a few more tweets, all inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, that she slid past before coming to the end of the tag. 

As if she'd rung a bell for hitting the bottom, from thin air she heard a light voice call, "Jean?"

Her head snapped up, fingers fumbling st her continuously buzzing phone in an attempt to ditch it. It thunped into her lap as she spread a smile upon her winter-chapped lips and let her eyes land on one Emma Frost.

"Hey, Emma," she greeted in kind, taking in her thick coat and corkscrew hair all done up like she was going somewhere. She gripped a steaming cup from the stand in her left hand, and held her phone in her right, ungloved one.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, her lips lifting as she motioned toward the vacant seat beside Jean.

"Of course not - what're you up to?" Jean had to pat herself on the back here, it was a smooth transition, not even a touch awkward.

Emma sighed, rolling her eyes in a good-natured way. "My friend Warren and I are headed to a mutual friend's birthday party, but he - Warren, that is - is _always_ late," she explained as she sat down next to Jean, close enough for their thighs to brush. "So as you see me before you, freezing my ass off, he's probably laid up somewhere in the heat just now remembering to put on some of his nice clothes."

Jean was hit with the scent of sweet perfume and setting spray, a soft mixture that whispered away in the chilly breeze. It was dizzying, still, what little made it into her lungs, which meant her replying laugh was just a half second too late. "I'm usually the late one," she confessed to the woman beside her, who batted glittered lids in rapt attention. "So I really can't say much."

Emma's lips slid wide. "Yeah, but you're cute, you've got an excuse."

Jean sputtered, lowercase Os dropping off her tongue like boxes off a conveyor belt. "Thanks," she finally spat out, her shoulders tucking into a cringe that could hopefully be brushed away as a side effect of the frozen breeze looping over them.

"Any time. Actually, I've been hoping I'd catch you outside of class," she said, turning slightly toward her. Jean's eyebrows picked up at the sharp turn, heart thudding in her chest, but features being held together like the schematics of a Home Alone trap. 

"Yeah? What's up?" 

"Well, now that I know you like coffee-" Jean didn't even have time to get internally worked up over where in the hell the sentence was going before Emma's phone started blasting some song that Jean hadn't heard in the better part of a decade.

"Shit- sorry, that's him, I have to take this." Her face was at least honestly apologetic, which Jean appreciated as she took the call.

"Hey, where are you? Wha-?" her eyebrows pinched together, revealing three small crinkles in the skin between them that Jean wanted to smooth with the pad of her thumb. "You did _what_? How the hell do you- no, fine, okay, yes, okay I'll- well then stop poking it, you idiot, that's not that hard a solution to think of. I'll be there in ten, I'm at the stand. No, I won't bring you a coffee - people spouting blood don't get coffee." She hung up abruptly at that, shocking them back into a chilly deep end to a conversation that had been doggy-paddling in the shallow end.

"I, yeah, I have to go," she said, nose crinkling up. "I'm really sorry- I'll see you around, okay? Happy holidays, Jean!"

"Happy holidays to you, too," Jean replied, but she was already gone.

\-----

Just a couple days after that, winter break started. Relinquished from midterms and studying and crying and all her other obligations, Jean just wanted to sleep.

Her body was exhausted, her mind double that, both feeling as if she'd been split in two and Flex Seal-ed back together. (She'd watched a lot infomercials during her brief flirtation with academic insomnia.) But as Ororo liked to remind her: she'd made it through relatively unscathed.

Due to the holidays, classes were obviously halted, but Jean was still on campus, not being able to take the trip home for the snow coating every major and minor road, and being too afraid to fly.

It wasn't all bad, though. Jubilee was hosting a non-denominational "gathering" (which was to say 'no drinking') at her place on the 26th, which was something to look forward to. Scott had given her an open invitation to stop by his dorm and play video games whenever she wanted. And Ororo, who'd flown out just in time, would be flying back in just before New Year's with Kurt.

Still, Jean had to fill her time. 

Mostly, she thought about that day that she and Emma had been cut off. She hadn't seen her since then, but she'd figured that would be the case anyway, she probably went home for the holidays and they wouldn't see one another until classes resumed in the new year.

But she could only occupy her time like that for so long, which meant playing a lot of Mortal Kombat with Scott, and helping Jubilee out with the baby whenever she could just to give herself something to do. 

The universe, though, decided that wasn't quite enough. 

\-----

**Almost Now - a week into break**

Jean woke up that morning as she had every morning since break started: hungover on sleep, with drool down the side of her face, pillow marks up and down her arms, and crunchy eyelashes.

And just like every other morning, she grabbed her phone and set to dissecting her notifications. There was a picture from Ororo, a link from Scott, a string of out of tune emojis from Jubilee. Jean cleared them all without looking at them, though, vowing to read and reply once she felt more human amd less like a reanimated corpse.

She had a couple likes on her Instagram - one of her favorite singers had posted something new, too - and an email from a clothing site. Twitter took up a few spaces on her notification bar, and she almost cleared those out without looking at them, too, until she noticed all the DMs she had from profiles she didn't recognize.

She clicked on the first, someone with a first name and a bunch of numbers that she thought was a bot. She blocked that one, moving onto the next, which looked more real than the last. She read over the message - "did you ever find her?" - with a frown, and quickly deleted it too. She had already deleted a half dozen more before she decided something was definitely, terribly wrong.

And that was when she checked her mentions.

They'd started ticking up a couple days into break, but she'd also garnered a few nee followers, so she figured the correlation was justified. Now she couldn't even scroll without the app crashing.

Her fingers sprouted sweat as she loaded the app again, trying to figure out what had happened. All she was able to gather was that she'd borne a good two, three hundred new followers overnight, and that was it. The app kept crashing before she could further investigate.

With a swoop in her stomach, she swapped over to her texts and started to go through them. 

The picture from Ororo was actually a screenshot, some random person she'd never met, but she assumed was a fellow student, had screenshotted her SBB tweets. Think link from Scott was where it had been picked up by one those recycled meme accounts. And the emojis from Jubilee detailed a painful sort of torture for whoever Jean pointed her toward - there was a vampire emoji that Jean was particularly worried about the implications of.

Her fingers took on a harsh tremble, but her jaw remained locked tight. Hot embarrassment and mortification slipped through her veins and lit up her cheeks and ears. Tears pushed at the back of her throat, so rough she could barely swallow them down.

And that was all before she finally got her timeline to load.

\-----

She found the original tweet that started it all, posted just at the beginning of break, which was probably why her mentions had started to pick up then.

-

**rando | @plotdevice**

yo i think ive been watching this girl at my school fall in love w the girl she sits behind in math class and its the sweetest shit can we #findskunkbearblonde

_[attached are screenshots of most of Jean's #skunkbearblonde tweets]_

\-----

Scrolling through too much fodder despite telling herself not to because it would just upset her, she found the one thing she'd been praying she wouldn't.

-

 **betsy** retweeted _@plotdevice_

@gofrostyourself isnt this,,, literally you?

-

**◇ emma ◇ | @gofrostyourself**

_replying to @plotdevice @bilocke_

BITCH WTF YES THIS IS ME?????

-

**◇ emma ◇ | @gofrostyourself**

_replying to @plotdevice @gofrostyourself_

IM NOT KIDDING AND SHES RIGHT IVE DRAWN HALF MY SHIT JUST TO MAKE HER LAUGH BC SHE HAS THE BEST LAUGHHHH IM

_[attached are snapshots of a few of Emma's drawings that Jean mentioned in her tweets, still in the original notebook]_

\-----

And from there it just went on.

-

**rando | @plotdevice**

yall #findskunkbearblonde actually worked! @gofrostyourself @jeanieinabottle #skunkbearblonde

_[attached are screenshots of Emma's replies]_

\-----

And on.

-

**bibbity bobbity | @toocoolforyou**

_replying to @plotdevice_

every single muscle in my gay little body just fucking cringed so hard godspeed @jeanieinabottle

\---

**scotty boy | @olelasereyelarry**

_replying to @plotdevice_

@jeanieinabottle i take cash, credit, paypal, venmo, and/or a monthly patreon subscription

\---

**kitty "gay rights" pryde | @lesbianpryde**

_replying to @plotdevice_

oh useless lesbians, you never cease to astonish. keep doing what you're doing ladies it'll work out one day

\---

**laura kin-me | @yourfckingta**

_replying to @plotdevice_

@no_theotherone babe this is wht i was telling you abt

-

**katie kate | @no_theotheone**

_replying to @plotdevice @yourfckingta_

oh this is seriously me-coded

\---

And on.

-

**raven | @bluebi-rd**

_replying to @plotdevice_

i once had my diary read aloud at age 13 and was completely mortified for life and yet i would take that over this any day christ

\-----

**Finally Now - Winter Break**

Ororo sighed, expelling a, "Don't apologize."

Jean pursed her lips, knowing more was coming. She adjusted the computer screen to put her in a better, tacking on a few taps to the volume key too.

"It's- I mean maybe we should talk about internet safety again, but listen. We'll figure this out."

"I should've known," Jean continued on miserably. "My mentions are literally broken, but I just figured it was because it was kind of a shitty app. God- now she's going to hate me, and think I'm super fucking creepy. Ororo, you'll let me live in your guest bedroom, right? Like when we're real adults and I'm sad and alone?"

Ororo rolled her lips in, her eyes shutting as she exhaled, all holding back laughter from the looks of it. "Jean," she finally said. "It's not going to come to that."

"So that's a no. And I'd never do that to Jubilee and the baby, so now I'm going to have to live with life-long bachelor Scott Summers - he's going to make me sleep on a futon- no, a trundle bed. We'll only ever eat canned soup and watch NCIS spin-offs."

Ororo passed a small flutter of laughter. "Soup?"

"With forks because he'll never have any spoons."

"Oh- okay, Jean. Jeanie, look at me. Up, up, up." Doing as she was told, Jean reluctantly lifted her eyes to meet Ororo's chain-link gray ones as she spoke, "Have you tried reaching out to her? Doing a little personal damage control?"

"I'm not ready for that. Oh god - I'm going to have to see her in class."

Sensing another spiral headed their way, Ororo was quick to point out, "Not until after break."

"Ororo that's gonna make it so much worse. What have I- god, what did I do?"

"Nothing illegal or morally/ethically corrupt, thus: something that can be fixed."

Jean groaned, flopping back onto her bed and throwing her arms to either side of her. Her right elbow hung off the slope down of the open side her mattress, putting a grounding pressure on the tendons there, whereas the knuckles of her left hand curled against the cool-to-the-touch wall.

"You do want to fix it, don't you, Jean?"

"Of course I do," she mumbled back.

"Then there you go. You've got thirty six hours for this pity party, if you aren't done by then I'm calling in the reinforcements. Understood?"

Jean blew a soft strand of auburn hair from her face before replying, "Yes ma'am."

\-----

Admittedly, Jean spent most of her day holed up under the blanket Julia had made for her in their high school home-ec class. It was patchy and a little slanted, but when she felt like shit, or missed home, or all of the above and then some, it was like a bear hug from her twin.

Right then she just wanted to melt into her mattress and never see another person again. Like clockwork, though, her laptop pinged with a Skype notification, and when she checked it she couldn't help but smile.

Jules: figured you had your phone off - call me?

She rigged up the video call, it ringing only twice before her sister came into view. 

"You cut your hair," Jean stated before they could even do pleasantries. And it was true - she and Julia had always kept their hair at the same length, long down to their shoulderblades, since they were kids. Not that it did much, consdering she had wispy brown for Jean's fiery orange, but it was still their thing. Now, though, it hung loosely around her bare shoulders - she was in California learning how to cook with the best of them, not that she even needed it in Jean's opinion.

"I did," she confirmed. "You went viral over a girl," she added.

"It was only a matter of time."

"This is true."

"How's school going?" she asked, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. Best to avoid that particular conversation.

"Jeanie Meanie," she said, levelling her with her best impression of their mother's Stern Gaze of Disapproval. "This one's for you- are you okay?"

"I'm _fine_ ," Jean said, a knee jerk reaction. "It's just a little internet fame, it'll pass in like, a week tops."

"Oh, so you haven't been wasting your break undernesth the threadbare quilt I made you, then? Eating the granola bars you keep under your head and rotting your teeth with juice boxes?"

"Jokes on you, I ran out of both of those a couple weeks ago."

"Jean!"

"Fine, I'm moping, it's whatever. The world will get over it, I'll get over it, life will go on, etc., etc."

Julia rolled her eyes, reaching up to adjust the thin strap of her tank top with her thumb. "You're so lucky I decided to go cross country for school otherwise I'd be beating down your door to kick your ass right now. Did you at least check out the girl's profile?"

Jean cringed immediately, her lips screwing up tightly. She'd forgotten that Julia, nor Sara, knew.

"Oh, god, what happened?"

She knew better than to hide it from her, and so with a shakily expelled breath, Jean admitted, "We uh, we kind of already know one another."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Jean! What the fuck!"

"That's been the general consensus. Please don't tell Sara, though, okay? I don't need her all up in my shit because she thinks she's some kind of life coach. I can swing wildly between destroying and fixing my life all by myself, thanks."

"Only 'cause I know you'll tell her about my drunk tattoo, and I don't need that stress while I'm trying to get a job at my favorite restuarant around here."

"You are? Julia- that's great!"

"We're not talking about it because we're not going to jinx it. Instead, I, as your twin, am going to give you the best talking to I can muster on the energy from my Hot Pockets and shitty drip coffee breakfast, and we'll go from there. Sound good?"

"Sounds terrible."

"Great!" She took a visible inhale, a smile breaking across her mouth and dimpling her chin. "So-"

"You know, Ororo and I have already been through this. We had a whole conversation."

" _So,_ ," she repeated, a little firmer than before. "You want to throw a pity party? Well too fucking bad!"

Jean simply rolled her eyes. 

"Jeanie, as someone who has been by your literal side your entire life, I'm just gonna say that you need to confront this head on. I know that 'ro probably told you the same thing, but I know she'll sugar coat sometimes when you look extra pitiful, so I'm reitersting it. You know this girl - you need to explain yourself, tell her how you feel clear as day, and then you need to internalize and respect whatever decision she makes. That's it! All there is to it. 

"But every single day you continue to waste in your room, the worse this gets. Not only does it look bad, it also increases the already high levels of tension, and you both deserve better than that. So go take a shower, you fucking gremlin, put on pants that aren't over 50% spandex, and get in touch with your girl! I haven't spent months watching that stupid hashtag for you to bitch out on me now."

\-----

It was astounding, really. She'd heard it all before and yet hearing it from Jules was like from the mouth of god herself. Not that she'd ever tell her sister that - they were still siblings, Jean the elder twin, and there was a balance to be maintained.

So she pulled herself out of bed, threw her hair up in something akin to a bun so as not to wet it, and scrubbed three days of lounging around off her skin. When she pushed the door to her room open, fluffy bathrobe thick on her still damp skin, she found what she should have been expecting all along.

Jubilee and Scott were thumb wrestling in the middle of her bed, each in clothing that brought an acute sense of dread into Jean's temples. Jubilee had long, puffy sleeves and a lot of leather, and Scott looked like he was auditioning for background work in Robin Hood - Men in Tights version, of course.

"What now?" Jean asked tiredly.

Scott's head snapped up, giving Jubilee one quick window to pin hus thumb down, and she held it there even as he struggled to free it. She craned her head of her shoulder, baring a huge grin on her, and explained, "Shogo is with Patsy and Jen, meaning that we're headed to your perfect escapist fantasy, and we _don't_ have to be back before eight."

\-----

"Why the fuck would you bring me to a renaissance faire?" Jean asked from the parking lot, staring down a tall, open gate a hundred yards ahead of them. At least they'd gotten good parking.

"Because you need to get out of your element in a safe and challenging way," Scott replied as he started shoving his car keys into a pocket Jean hadn't even known he had.

"You've been talking to Ororo," Jean guessed blandly.

"No, I have. He's been talking to Google," Jubilee supplied as she affixed a wide-brimmed hat atop her short spikes.

Jean spread her palm against the heavy fabric of the dress they'd given her. It was a deep, velvety green with long sleeves that opened wide at the bottom, cinched around the middle with a golden-hued belt. Jubilee had braided her hair on the fly for her, and nearly taken her hand off when she jammed a few of her trademark gold rings onto Jean's fingers.

Still, it was a nice outfit, the fabric thick enough to keep her warm save for her exposed collarbones, and the length long enough that she could just wear her hiking boots and call it a day. On the half hour car ride she'd had time to contemplate that maybe whatever they were taking her to wouldn't be so bad if she got to dress like she was. 

Heading toward a gate that seemed to barely hold back lively music and waves of chatter, she thought maybe her earlier self was a dumbass.

Almost immediately after they crossed the invisible threshold, Scott saw someone he knew.

"Hank!" he called delightedly, waltzing over to an overly tall man with thin glasses and an outfit much like that of Scott's. He slapped hands with him, though it was an awkward motion on Hank's end, before Scott tilted his head back to babble up at him about something science-y that Jean tuned out because she wanted to.

"C'mon," Jubilee said, grabbing up Jean's wrist and pulling her deeper into the throng of people. "He and Hank are always at that forever, but we're here for cool stuff."

They made their way over to the first cart they came across - a young woman in something that looked straight out of Assassin's Creed selling handcrafted jewelry. Jean spent longer than she probably should've at that stall alone, running her fingers over every pendant, taking in every ring and charm. She didn't wear much jewelry anymore, always losing it, but it was all beautiful nonetheless. Her eye kept catching on a dainty, fox charm, eyes made of fake diamonds, body striped in electric blue.

"The Princess is wearing that piece today," the woman said from inside her hood, tapping the fox. "You have a good eye."

Jean shot a quizzical look at Jubilee. "Princess?" she mouthed.

"May that honor carry from you to your family," Jubilee said quickly to the merchant before tugging Jean away yet again. She sequestered them away from prying eyes and listening ears before she explained herself.

"Okay, so, maybe it just dawned on me you don't know anything about any of this," she said, waving her hands around. "These things follow a storyline most of the time. So, you're gonna hear a lot about the Queen - and apparently the Princess - today; just go with it. Some people get super into the storyline, and won't break character, so it's best not to instigate. What time is it?"

Jean fumbled her phone out of the pocket of her dress (it has _pockets_ , she had shouted triumphantly upon realizing that fact in the car) and said, "A little after three."

"Okay, cool, I think the royals are doing a thing around five-ish, so we'll look around a bit and then head over so you can get the full experience. I think you'll like it."

Jean let herself be pulled away once again, off to find adventure in small places, and reprieve in the middle of packed spaces. She and Jubilee stopped at damn near every cart, admired fabrics and jewelry and artwork. They stopped and spoke with a couple of Jubilee's friends, spoke to even more that neither of them had ever met.

Jean had a rousing converstion with a poli-sci major pixie who was minoring in theatre, got a tip on the best place on the grounds to get drunk at from a monk, and debated the finer points of hot glue vs. rubber cement with the ass end of a centaur. She swapped Instagram handles with a barmaid, nearly fought a knight when he spoke out of turn, and was pretty sure she got blessed by a witch (though it was yet to be determined if they actually practiced or not.)

By the time Scott caught up with them an hour and a half later - he'd talked to Hank for a third of that, and spoke with a guy about a sword for another, rounding out his time actually looking for them with the last third - Jean was verging on beat. Still her skin was flushed despite the chill, and her smile was wide and true, and she was filled to the brim with love for her friends, and a new appreciation for their mutual hobby.

Still, it had been an hour and a half, and Jean hadn't eaten in hours. Things were about to become dire.

"I'm hungry," she finally proclaimed as they moved away from a guy who smelled like he'd been partaking in the refillable ale chalices since noon. "Like, now-hungry."

Jubilee turned to look at her over her shoulder, her fingers ticking against her pants. "Whim's?" she asked Scott.

He didn't even reply, just rocketed forward to 'scope them out a spot.'

"He's gonna use my punchcard and not share," Jubilee hissed ever-so-quietly, like every word was a curse and she was in church. Her face steeled, eyebrows shifting down and nostrils flaring as she took off after him, leaving Jean to fumble to catch up.

As it turned out, Whim's was a shaky looking cart with a window thrown open and delicious, stomach-rumbling smoke blowing over the gatgered customers. Two old men, each half-hunched, but with grand smiles on their faces, doled out food like an assembly line. The crowd narrowed in astonishing time, putting the trio at the front in just a few minutes.

Scott slapped his palm down on the plank of wood working as a serving counter, and beamed up at the man closest to him. 

"Well, hello, Scott! And Jubilation- what can I do for the two of you?"

"Three specials, Glenn. We've got to convert our third," Jubilee said, throwing her thumb back over her shoulder to point out Jean.

"Excuse me, fair maiden," the man - Glenn - said with a flourish. "For my improper-ness, and for your first experience, a special on the house- shack?"

The man behind him laughed. "This is why I didn't want to let you run the counter," he told Glenn fondly as he came around his side to stand beside him. He rested his hand on his shoulder, which Glenn covered automatically with his own. "Now, who's the third? I doubt Scott got any form of partner,"

"Ouch."

"So, she's either Jubilee's, or the infamous-"

"Jean," she piped in, extending her hand up to him.

"Whim," he replied in kind, shaking her hand quickly. "And Glenn, just in case he hasn't made that clear," he added jokingly.

"Nice to meet you."

He opted to nod his reply before he said, "Three specials, then?"

No one had to respond, as he'd already moved to the back of the cart. There was the sound of running water, and then finally, a renewed wafting smell that made Jean's stomach _ache_.

Scott handed Glenn Jubilee's punchcard, which he dutifully tended to before happily refusing their money. Not that they could argue, because as Glenn shoved the money back toward Jubilee, Whim rounded the proverbial corner with three massive turkey legs, all wrapped up and ready to go like lollipops at a doctor's office.

"Oh my god," Jean blurted.

"We got another one," Jubilee proclaimed before Jean had even gotten hers. And yet, she wouldn't disagree.

The skin on it was perfectly browned, still radiating warmth, though not heat. 

"Do I just-" she began as she took hers from Scott.

"Go for it," all four agreed simultaneously.

She appraised it for only a second before she bit into the thickest part of it.

"Oh my god," she repeated. "Oh my _god_."

"All right, before you completely block up the line," Scott muttered good-naturedly as he took her upper arm gently in his free hand and steered her away from the cart while Jubilee handled their ados.

She rejoined them a moment later, a hunk already missing from her own leg. They stood in a cubed, stunned silence, each munching on the meat in front of them. They would have been content to stay just like that, but a sound in the distance startled both of Jean's companions.

"Is that the town crier?" Scott asked, head cocked to the side.

"Fuck," Jubilee muttered before raising her voice to cry, "Eat and walk, eat and walk!"

\-----

It was, indeed, the town crier. 

He was a short man, probably somewhere around five foot flat, in the most ridiculous costume she'd seen all day - which said a lot because she'd seen….things. In his left hand he held a worn scroll, and his right, a clanging bell.

He spouted 'Her Majesty' this and 'Her Royal Highness' that, and proclaimed the date down to the year (Jean tried to puzzle out how that worked.) Finally, he bowed out of the way, and trumpet sounds blared loud enough she was sure she could still hear them after they stopped playing.

The Queen was already sat in a respectably carved throne, her gown seemingly bleeding red onto what was visible of both her vastly dark skin, and the stained wood beneath her. To her right there was another, smaller throne, though that one sat unoccupied. 

The small crowd around them murmured, some people pointing out the vacancy under their breaths. Jean, following Scott and Jubilee's leads, kept chewing away amd waiting.

A few belated seconds later, another figure picked her way up to the throne and plunked in it, pale blue dress swishing around her feet from the force. She pushed a lone curl back from her face, the rest of her hair pulled back into an intricate up-do.

Jean went to take another bite from her leg as she looked who she could only assume to be the Princess over, and nearly choked when she realized who it was.

"I'm going to kill you both."

"Sh, the Queen is speaking," Jubilee muttered, but her face had curled into a shit-eating grin nonetheless. Jean was definitely going to kill her - Jen and Patsy could just take care of Shogo.

Jean was caught somewhere between being embarrassed, being impressed, and holding a righteous anger for nearly the whole shtick. She just kept repeating the words that Scott had said to her so many moons ago, _we're like ren faire acquaintances._ At least he had the decency to look like less of a smug asshole than usual.

By the end of whatever it was that was happening, Jean had lost her anger and started heading toward nauseated dread. She had a turkey bone in her hand, had probably smudged grease all over her face, and the way Scott was trying to look at her from the corner of his eye, she was probably about to be face to face with the girl she Twitter-chronicled about. Fuck.

"Here," Jubilee said, handing her a wet wipe out of nowhere. Jean muttered dark curses at her as she wiped her face and hands down, and she simply kept replying, "I know, I know."

Okay, she was definitely going to take Scott out, but Jubilee was firmly back on thin ice.

"Showtime," Jubilee murmured, spinning Jean around by the shoulders and pushing her forward. She was pushed through the curtains of a tent, Jubilee's hands still on her shoulders, for which she was grateful.

"Emma," Jubilee said, tone much calmer than the thump of her heartbeat that Jean could feel coming through her hands. Actually, that might be her own heartbeat. 

Emma didn't move - didn't hear her, Jean realized - but before Jean could make her speedy exit, another woman about their age with black hair that shone purple in light, poked her in the shoulder. A Cheshire grin curled up her face as she looked at Jean, but spoke to Emma. "Em, you've got company."

Emma looked up from where she was sat at a small, make-shift vanity, messing with her hair. Her eyes landed first on Jubilee, who was peeking over her shoulder, and then on Jean, who was doing her best not to black out. She could even see the moment that she recognized her, mouth instantly lifting upward.

"Hey," she said, hands falling away from her hair.

"Hey, Betsy, can I talk to you about that thing-?" Jubilee started, releasing Jean's shoulders before she pedalled her way over to Betsy and they scurried out the other side of the tent.

She and Emma looked at one another for a long minute before the latter finally spoke. 

"So, how have you been? Have you been having a good break?" she asked, at least sounding earnest in her efforts. Jean had steeled for more than that, and the water balloons rolled down her thick armor.

"Oh, yeah," she said, completely caught off guard. "Mostly recouping from midterms and like, relishing in not wanting to cry every twenty minutes." Though she tried hard for that joke, it still struck like an out of place chord. "What about you?"

"I've just been enjoying sleeping late - I didn't heed the no 8ams advice that at least four people gave me, so that was definitely my fault, but." She shrugged. "It is what it is. Oh, and not having to listen to Prof. Howlett go on and on every Monday morning. You know I took his class while I was in highschool? But they reassigned me to it, and are making me take it again- they wouldn't let me transfer out, so I'm super pissed about that, but." She shrugged again, her lips stilling as she realized her small tangent. "God, sorry, I'm not usually- things have been a little, surprising lately, as you know. Betsy likes to tell me it makes me a rambly."

Jean digested all that, waiting a respectable amount of time before she blurted out, "Is that why you draw? Because you've taken the class before?"

"Oh, no, that's just how I process shit. My memory is very much visual based, so if I draw while I listen, I'll link the info to the picture, and then I can recall it easier."

"Oh," Jean said eloquently. "Well you're super- just super good at it." Her palms physically _itched_ with the tension around them. It was too warm in the tent, too invasive and small. She needed fresh air. 

No, she needed to apologize.

But she couldn't tell if Emma really wanted to talk about it or not, and she didn't want to make her anymore uncomfortable. It would be extra weird, she reasoned, if she didn't say anything, though. 

"Emma," she started. "I'm really-"

"Hi, guys, sorry, but Em, we gotta get back," Betsy interrupted by sticking her head at the tent. Jean thought she could hear Jubilee protesting. "Again, sorry, but Boss is gonna lose his shit if you're out late again."

Emma groaned, pushing up from her seat. She padded over to where Jean stood and rested her cool palm half on the skin of Jean's shoulder, and half on the fabric of her thrift store dress.

"I've got to get back to work, and I've got duties around after, but will you be here after closing? I really do want to talk."

Jean blinked. Once, twice, before she started bobbing her head. "Yeah, of course, yeah. I'll see you."

\-----

She hadn't seen her. It was nearly fifteen minutes after closing, and the trio was finally asked to leave by an official, un-costumed RenFest staffer.

Jean tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear gingerly, trying not to offset anymore of her hairstyle than already was. She trudged across the parking lot, having been left behind by Jubilee and Scott so they could pull the car around. Her fingers were heavy and numb, and she desperately wanted to get back to her dorm to change. Maybe try to boil some water in whatever microwave she could get her hands. She haf this Swiss Miss knock-off hot chocolate that she'd bought on a 2/$3 deal, and nabbing warmth off of it was easy as pie.

Her plan, however, was nearly instantly derailed.

"Jean! Jean, wait up!"

She craned her head over her shoulder, her braid brushing at her back as her chin skittered across her cool-to-the-touch skin. Her feet, having already begun go slow, stopped immediately when she saw who was coming toward her.

Emma's face was pulled into a kind smile from behind a gorgeously detailed scarf. Small, intricate snowflakes danced around the edging of the black fabric in thin, so-pale-it-was-almost-white blue, each one seemingly kissing her jawline sweetly. It was tucked down into a dark pea coat, the first item of her wardrobe that Jean had ever seen that didn't have some accent of white/off-white on it - even down to the stitching and buttons it was shaded by shadows. It was draped over her own dress, blending timelines seamlessly. 

"Oh, uh, hey," Jean said as Emma came to a stop in front of her, her white hair - loose around her shoulders now - shifting in the newly rehearsing wind. 

"Hey," Emma said on her exhale, air crystallizing from her warm breath. It sounded a lot like an apology.

"Hey," Jean replied, bobbing her head to an unknown and unnecessary beat. It was in that moment she remembered she'd already said hey, and doubled down on her want to go home.

Emma shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, the air between them starting to soak up the silence unpleasantly.

"I was trying to apologize," Jean started shakily. "That's what I was trying to say earlier. And I am- honest."

She watched Emma's face start to screw up, so before she could say anything, Jean continued.

"And I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or if you've gotten any backlash or anything off of all this. It was never meant to go beyond my Twitter - which I know is super naïve, but I really didn't know this would happen and if I did I wouldn't have done it. I'm- Emma, I'm sorry."

"You done?" Emma asked, not unkindly. Her cheeks were dimpled in and her eyes were twinkling and if Jean weren't so torn up about everything, she'd probably have embarrassingly commented on them by then.

"I think so?"

"Good; I didn't want to get in the middle of that, you looked like you were on a roll, but it's fine. Everything is fine- _we're_ fine, Jean. It's honestly really cute. Sometimes I forget that there are things about me that aren't just mine and that other people notice. And it's kind of a bonus when they like those things - especially if it's the girl that you've been trying to 'bump' into on campus so you can ask her out for months. I have run across campus for you so many times, Jean Grey." 

"Like a date?" Jean asked, her mind not comprehending anything last 'out.'

Emma paused, laughing slightly - a sound that thrusted blood from Jean's heart outward, that made her want to duck her head or kiss her the breath out of both of their lungs. Either worked.

"Definitely a date. Unless I read you rhapsodising about how _pretty_ I am in the wrong tone?" she teased, her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth.

Jean finally cracked, a startled laugh creeping up her throat until it burst from her chapstick-ed lips and pushed her cheeks into her eyes. " _Emma_ ," she croaked out.

"I'll take that as a yes?"

"Yeah- yes, absolutely. 

"Cool, cool, so. Can I grab your number? I mean, since I doubt you're gonna unblock me on Twitter anytime soon."

"Just for that, I'm gonna keep you blocked."

"Works for me."

The hum of an engine puttered up beside them while they locked eyes, unsure of what to do now. 

"Hey!" Scott called, arm slung out the window and beating against the side of the car. "We're going to BK- are you in or are you in!"

"Oh, way to break the fucking mood, Scotty," Jubilee admonished from the passenger seat. 

Jean finally shifted her eyes to the right to look over at her friends, a frown brewing on her mouth.

" _What?_ " Scott borderline whined as he craned to look back at Jubilee. "Fine, I'll fix it," he said to her soured face. He whipped his back around and called, "Kiss her!" through his cupped hands before either of them could stop him.

"Scott, I'm going to kill you when we get back to campus," Jean hissed through her clenched teeth. "Drive around the parking lot before I up my timeline."

He gave a quick two finger salute from his forehead before pressing on the gas and zipping he and Jubilee away from the scene of the crime.

"I am so sorry about him," Jean mumbled, turning back to face Emma. "I don't know why I'm friends with him, honestly."

"Necessity?"

"That's probably it."

Emma quirked a small smile at the corner of her lips. "You know," she started conspiratorially, leaning in slightly. "It's not a bad idea."

Wind brushed through her hair, shifting it about her simultaneously earnest and teasing face. Her lips, dark brown and painted over with a clear gloss, parted ever-so-slightly, and that was all the invitation that Jean needed. She pressed forward on the tips of her toes, meeting Emma in the middle where she'd already started forward. 

Her hand clasped at Jean's cheek, thumbing over the skin there as their lips met. It wasn't searing, wasn't even a contained blaze. Nor was it chilly or gray-hued, for their namesakes.

No, it was slow and melodic, like the soft harp music from earlier that day. A sweet-toned lazy that said they wouldn't be rushed, that they were intent on enjoying what they had.

Though Scott apparently didn't get that memo, because he made sure to pull up next to them once more - even closer than before - and ask, "I'm starving, get your girlfriend and let's go!"

Jean tucked her forehead against Emma's scarf and mumbled, "I guess it isn't the worst place for a first date."

Emma stroked at Jean's braid thoughtfully. "We gotta get a separate booth, at least."

"Deal."

\-----

**Two Months Later**

-

**Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle**

btw guys my beautiful amazing gf finally enlightened me to the fact tht she was drawing a -wolverine- #skunkbearblonde 

-

**◇ emma ◇ | @gofrostyourself** ****

**_replying to @jeanieinabottle_ **

**god its a good thing youre so cute ;)**

**-**

****Jean Gay | @jeanieinabottle** **

**_replying to @gofrostyourself_ **

**not as cute as you :***

**-**

****Ororo Munroe | @calmbeforethestorm** **

**_replying to @jeanieinabottle @gofrostyourself_ **

**oh so i dont see enough of this in our room i have to see it on my tl too**

**-**

****◇ emma ◇ | @gofrostyourself** **

**_replying to @calmbeforethestorm_ **

**shhh you love us**

**Author's Note:**

> god i had sm fun coming up w twitter @s (speaking of,, if you recognize wht emma's @ is from know tht ily)
> 
> i'm on tumblr @wlwshehulk (lmao yeah,,, Thts why there were allusions to jen and patsy)


End file.
